The arrival of King Collin's delegation at Scofield was a loud, dramatic contrast to the silent, efficient terror of Max's recent conquest. The Southern envoys—three barons chosen for their perceived trustworthiness and a senior war councilor—arrived not by airship, but by a convoy of heavy, slow, traditional carriages, their anxiety palpable beneath their velvet cloaks and thick furs, fearing the rumored sorcerer they were about to meet. They had come to bargain with a man they viewed as either a devil or a genius, seeking aid against the crushing might of the Imperial legions now massed against their newly declared kingdom. They were ushered into the great hall of Scofield castle, which Max had converted into a chillingly functional, minimalist command center. The contrast was deliberate: the Southern nobles reeked of perfume, powdered wigs, tradition, and fear; Max sat at a simple, modern steel desk, surrounded by complex strategic maps and strange, humming telegraph equipment, the air crisp with the unfamiliar, clean smell of printing ink and ozone.
The senior war councilor began the negotiations with deep deference, his voice barely disguising his terror, launching immediately into a plea for shared interest. "Lord Scorpia—or perhaps, King Scorpia—your decisive action has shown the entire continent that the Empire is a giant with feet of clay. King Dunbar recognizes this truth. We are natural allies against Emperor Alaric, who now seeks to destroy us both. We offer a formal, binding alliance: two kingdoms united against the tyranny of the Throne." The councilor then laid out their proposal, the centerpiece of which was a political maneuver designed to anchor Max to the South: "To seal this pact and assure its longevity, King Dunbar offers the hand of his youngest niece, the Lady Elara, in marriage. Your bloodlines would be fused, securing a permanent, generational bond against the Emperor. Furthermore, we would offer you permanent duty-free access to our southern ports and a generous annual tribute paid in gold and high-grade timber."
Maximilian listened patiently, his expression utterly unreadable, his mind ticking through logistics and probabilities, not feudal customs. He had already analyzed King Collin's situation: the South was strong, but conventionally so, destined to bleed out against Alaric's coordinated legions and powerful mages. They needed him desperately to survive the next two seasons. Max leaned forward, his response cool, detached, and immediate. "I accept the principle of alliance against the Empire, but only until the time the Everwinter Empire ceases to exist and its threat to Valum is eliminated. After that, our alliance dissolves. We are partners in destruction, not in nation-building, and Valum will operate on its own terms." He then decisively rejected the romanticized core of their proposal. "The matter of political marriage is unnecessary. Valum does not deal in antiquated bloodlines or sentimental gestures. Our alliances are built on strategic need and concrete trade agreements, not on dynastic ritual, which is inefficient and unreliable."
Max pushed a prepared document across the table, its parchment stamped with the sharp, industrial seal of Valum. "Here is my counter-proposal. It secures my alliance and provides King Dunbar with the long-term support he needs to survive and, more importantly, to modernize." His terms were clear, practical, and heavily tilted in Valum's industrial favor: Trade Expansion: The Southern Dominion must sign an exclusive trade agreement to dramatically increase its purchase of Valum's specialized goods, primarily refined ethanol (alcohol)—useful for heating, cleaning, and medicinal purposes—and, critically, the older, first-generation steam engines that Max was phasing out after his oil discovery. This served a dual purpose: it moved old, less efficient Valum inventory and integrated Valum's basic technology into the South's economy, making them increasingly dependent on Max's industrial products. Diplomatic Sovereignty: Valum would be granted a small, perpetual piece of land in the strategic coastal city of Caelum to serve as a Sovereign Consulate, granting Max a permanent intelligence and trade outpost deep within the South, perfectly positioned to monitor both King Collin and the remnants of Imperial power. The Price of Peace: In return for this agreement and the immediate, substantial trade purchases, Max would agree to neutralize the single most devastating military threat currently facing King Collin.
"Your most pressing problem," Max stated, his finger tracing a large Imperial garrison marked on the map near the southern mountain range, "is the Imperial Southern Military Garrison at Fort Astra. This force of two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers—trained, provisioned, and led by the Emperor's most loyal General—is the anchor of the Emperor's counter-rebellion. They are predictable, strong, and currently plague your flank." Max looked up, his eyes holding the delegation's terrified gaze. "Valum will agree to destroy this entire Imperial Garrison and eliminate that specific threat within seventy-two hours of this document's signing. This will free your armies to consolidate your control against the rest of the Emperor's legions."
The delegation was utterly stunned into silence, their faces pale. Two hundred and fifty thousand men—the largest military concentration outside the Imperial Capital, a force that had been holding their armies at bay—was a task no one, not even the combined magic of the South, would attempt to destroy in less than a year. It was a commitment of unimaginable, terrifying violence, delivered with the casualness of a mundane trade transaction. The senior councilor swallowed hard, recognizing the sheer, terrifying scale of the power of the man before him. "Lord Scorpia... how? That is a force that would require years of siege and a million men committed to certain death." Max merely smiled, a cold, analytical expression utterly devoid of human warmth. "Valum operates on simple efficiency. The cost of two hundred and fifty thousand Imperial soldiers is one MSW-1 strike and the necessary logistical support. The trade agreement will be signed. The Imperial garrison will fall. And then you, King Dunbar, will purchase your industrial supplies from Valum." The alliance was formalized minutes later. The Southern delegation, terrified yet relieved beyond measure, signed the treaty, trading their sovereign independence for immediate survival and the promise of a technological deliverance they couldn't possibly fathom. Valum had secured its first military ally, its first lucrative foreign trade agreements, and its first permanent intelligence base, all by agreeing to execute a quarter of a million Imperial soldiers as a demonstration of good faith.